


A Thousand Times Over

by HumsHappily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega John, Omega Omega pairing, Omega Sherlock, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more than one difficulty for an omega-omega pairing, but at the moment there is only one on John and Sherlock's mind. </p><p>The solution might be right in front of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Times Over

**Author's Note:**

> ‘For you, a thousand times over’-The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini

[Could you come over? Tomorrow. Noon. Need to talk about Sherlock. JW]

[Certainly. MH]

**  
“Harriet.”

“Hey, Sherlock.”

“Meet me for coffee. Tomorrow. Noon. Speedy’s.”

“What is this about?”

“John. I’ll see you then.”

“Sherlock, wait, what’s”-click. “Arse.”

**  
“Sherlock, I thought you said you were going out today,” John called casually from the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea.

“I am.”

“Then why are you still here?” John asked, glancing at the clock.

“Because I haven’t gone out yet,” Sherlock replied.

“Sherlock. I was going to clean today. If you’re going to be here then-”

Sherlock groaned and swung his feet down. “Fine.” He went down the hall, emerging from the bedroom a few moments later, fully dressed and scowling. “How long will you take?”

John glared at him. “Have you see this place, love? Do you really want to ask that question?”

Sherlock wilted. “No, John.”

“That’s what I thought.” John gave a satisfied smile, and rose up on his toes to peck him on the lips, pressing his palm to Sherlock’s chest. “Pick up some of the curry from the place across the road for dinner, yeah? I’ll see you back later.”

Sherlock sighed, ignoring the flush high on his cheeks that still appeared whenever John kissed him. “Yes, John.”

“Thank you, love.” John went back into the kitchen, opening the oven with a grimace and pulling out a scrub brush as Sherlock galloped down the stairs. John waited till he heard the street door slam shut and then threw the brush aside, reaching for his mobile.

[He’s gone. JW]

[I’ll be there at noon. As requested. MH]

John glanced at the clock again, and flipped on the kettle once more before grabbing the scrub brush and a bottle of vinegar and going to work.

**

“All right, Sherlock, what’s all this about? I worked last night,” Harry said, yawning as she pulled out a chair across from Sherlock in the cafe.

Sherlock pushed a cup toward her. “Three shots of espresso,” he said, steepling his fingers and staring at Harry.

“Ta. Now why are you staring at me like that?” Harry asked, taking it and gulping it down.

“Your alcoholism hasn’t affected your sperm count or fertility, correct?” Sherlock said.

Harry sputtered, choking on her coffee. “Sherlock!”

“Yes?” Sherlock said, handing her a napkin.

“You can’t just...just ask people things like that!”

“Yes I can, I just did,” Sherlock said, frowning.

Harry groaned. “Jesus, I don’t know why John married you.”

“Because he loves me,” Sherlock replied.

Harry sighed. “Yeah, he does. And god help anyone who questions that. Yes. My sperm is fine. Happy little swimmers. Now, why are you asking?”

“John wants a child. I can see it,” Sherlock said. “And as an omega-omega pairing, we cannot have one on our own. Therefore, if you were to give me a sample of your semen before my next heat, I could impregnate myself. The baby would be from both mine and John’s DNA, and I could carry the child, given your family history with difficult labors.”

Harry’s eyes widened and she sat back. “Sherlock. Have you even spoken to John about this?”

Sherlock blinked. “I didn’t think it necessary until the plans were in place.”

“Sherlock. Trust me. This is a very necessary conversation. I know you don’t think I know much, and you’re probably right, but this is something you need to talk to John about.” Harry sighed. “Just. Look, I’ll think about it. But it’s not just my decision in the end. It’s John and yours too. To make together. You need to talk to him.”

Sherlock scowled. “I don’t understand why.”

“I know you don’t,” Harry said. “But that’s a part of why John loves you so fuckin’ much, I think. The things you think are important are the little ones. What is John’s favourite flower?”

“He hates hydrangeas and loves tulips,” Sherlock replied.

Harry smiled. “Food?”

“Mango chicken curry and naan from across the road,” Sherlock said, glancing out the window. “He tried it because it was only six pounds per plate and found that he loves it.”

“And his favourite line from a book?” Harry asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Sherlock hesitated. “It used to be something from that book with the little hairy people in the place they called the Shire. But it changed.”

“Yeah. So what is it now?” Harry asked, grinning.

Sherlock flushed. “‘For you, a thousand times over’,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because he says it makes him think of me,” Sherlock muttered, looking away.

“See? The little things,” Harry said quietly. “You know what makes John tic. You might have seen that he wants a child, but does he want to raise a child? They’re two different things. Talk to him, Sherlock. Make sure this is what you both want. You haven’t even said if you want a baby. Do you? Did you even think of that, or did you just jump into wanting to please John?”

Sherlock frowned, and looked back at her, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry said, nodding and leaning back again, finishing off her coffee. “Anything else then?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“Right. I’m off. Oh, and don’t forget to get dinner like John asked.”

“How did you know?” Sherlock asked, looking at her as Harry stood.

Harry chuckled. “John knew you’d forget,” she said, reaching forward and taking the sticky note from Sherlock’s shirt, handing it to him. “Probably figured you’d see it, or someone else would tell you.”

Sherlock took the note, nodding absentmindedly as Harry left.

_Sherlock. Don’t forget the curry, love. xx JW_

_**  
_ “Hi, Mycroft,” John said, opening the door. “Just a second, I have to finish wiping out the oven.”

Mycroft glanced over, one eyebrow lifted. “Very well. Though, I can tell right now, the answer is no.”

John visibly deflated with a sigh. “You could have let me ask,” he said, and frowned, going back to kneel by the oven.

Mycroft took a look at him and threw his gaze skyward, coming in to sit at the kitchen table.

John glanced at him and started wiping the oven out in long, careful swipes. “How'd you know?” he asked.

“Your heat is coming up, you've marked it on the calendar, and there's been an influx of children to the clinic, likely because of the spread of germs caused by schools returning from break. You're nesting, for lack of a better word. You're seeing these children and families and wishing for your own.”

John gave a grumpy huff. “It's not just me,” he said. “Sherlock is too. He wants a baby. I can see it, the way he acts around kids. He adores them. Mostly. And I thought that, you know, if I got the okay from you, then it could be a conversation I could bring up. I don't think Sherlock would carry the child, so I could do it, and we'd know who the father was. It would all work out,” John sighed.

“First of all, I would have to ask Gregory’s opinion,” Mycroft said. “Second of all, have you taken into consideration the risk you'd be putting your child under? You know who I am, and what I do. And third, do you honestly think my brother would agree to you carrying my child?”

John tossed the rag into the sink, and stood, shutting the oven. “I did, yeah. Tea?” he asked gloomily.

“No, thank you,” Mycroft replied. “Perhaps he may have agreed, but the fact of the matter is that you have not spoken to each other about this.”

“Yeah, but when do we ever talk about important things like this until everyone else has heard it first?” John said, with a dark laugh, pulling out a chair. “I just...don’t want to not have this if it’s what Sherlock wants.”

“Then you ought talk about it,” Mycroft said. “You both ought to be sure before you embark on such a journey. Will that be all?”

“You’re sure the answer’s still no?” John asked, looking up as Mycroft stood.

Mycroft sighed. “I will consult Gregory, and my security team. You will need to speak with Sherlock. And as he is currently downstairs in the cafe with your sister, I’d wager that there will be something he wishes to speak with you about as well. Is that enough of an answer for you?”

“He’s talking to Harry?” John asked, eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

“He was when I arrived, I’d think he won’t be now. Good day, John.”

**  
[When are you coming home? JW]

[Soon. SH]

[All right. I love you. JW]

[Mutual. SH]

**

“You talked to Harry today,” John said as Sherlock stepped into the now completely spotless kitchen, with the exception of the multiple tea bags in the sink.

“And you spoke with Mycroft,” Sherlock replied, setting down the dinner on the table.

“About being a surrogate alpha,” John said, swallowing. “So we could have a pup.”

“A child. Yes. Harriet said that I should ask you if you want a child, but also if you wish to raise a child,” Sherlock said hesitantly, taking a seat beside him. “She said they were two different things.”

“When the hell did Harry get so smart?” John muttered. “Yeah. They’re different. But I...I want both. Mycroft told me to ask if you wanted the same. I mean. I see the way you act around children. You’d be an amazing parent. I just...I want this. But if you don’t, I don’t, and I’ll be all right with that. But if you do, then I really do. I want to have a family.”

“Mycroft told you no,” Sherlock said.

John groaned. “Not exactly. He said he’d talk to Greg and his security team.”

“Harry told me I had to talk to you,” Sherlock said. “But that she’d think about it.”

“Right,” John said. “Right. So...no matter what those two say...what do you think?”

“I want a child with you,” Sherlock said softly. “I do.”

“Really?” John asked, looking at him.

“Yes, John.” Sherlock frowned. “Finding you...was strange. And it was difficult getting together, and yet I did it. We did it. We’re together and you love me, and you have killed for me. That is something that I never expected. And I expected less that I would love someone back who loved me, who saw me. You see me. And I would like to give a child that. That knowledge that there will be someone to see them, and know them. And perhaps adoption is better in that way, but if you wish one of us carry a child, then we will find a way.”

John bit his lip. “You’re sure, love?”

“I am very much sure, John, haven’t I just stated that clearly? But I believe then that we must make a choice. Adoption or surrogacy?”

“I need to think about it,” John said, sighing. “I don’t know now. Not since Mycroft basically said no. And Harry...I love her, but...I don’t know if she’ll say yes, or if I’d want her too. ”

Sherlock nodded. “If it helps, I have no distinct preference on the choice between adoption and surrogacy, nor do I have any distinct preference on which of us carries the child if we were to.”

John smiled, something almost sad in his eyes. “All right. Well. Let’s eat dinner. Before the naan gets soggy.”

**  
“Sherlock?” John murmured as Sherlock clambered into bed late that night.

“Yes, John?”

“What you said earlier. About showing someone that there is someone out there that sees them. And loves them. I want to do that,” John said sleepily, turning to face him. “I want to give a child a happy home.”

“Adoption then?” Sherlock said quietly, curling around him, twining their legs together.

“Yeah,” John said, sighing and tucking his face into Sherlock’s throat with a yawn.

“Very well. We can begin the process after our upcoming heat. Then we will have time to prepare beforehand, and time for the child to adjust afterwards before the next.”

“Smart,” John murmured. “Love you.”

“I love you too, John. Sleep.”

John murmured a quiet affirmation, already dozing off again.

 

**One Month Later**

 

[Case. Morwell St. Come at once. SH]

 

[Type? On my way, love. JW ]

[Home Invasion and Homicide. Locked from the inside. SH ]

[Right. JW]

**  
“Sherlock, the scenes been cleared,” Greg said. “Go ahead in. They’ve been dead for about a day and a half. Fellow walking his dog smelled a funny thing, the neighbors are on vacation so they don’t know a thing, and the house next door is vacant.”

“When John arrives, send him in,” Sherlock said, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Always do,” Greg sighed. “Go on. You’ve got five minutes. Oh. And we’re treating it like a kidnapping as well. Found evidence of kids in the house once we went in,” Greg said, shaking his head. “As of now, they’re missing. And no family that we’ve found, one deceased aunt in Brighton, but that’s all on both sides. It’ll be on the news soon.”

“What will?” John asked, stepping up next to them.

“Kidnapping, Murder, Robbery,” Greg said. “In that order. These two had kids. Not sure where they are or what the motive was anymore.”

“Right.” John followed Sherlock in, pausing only to put on shoe covers. “Sherlock, what are you doing?” he asked, seeing the other omega examining the bookshelf.

“Children, John. Two of them. Home locked from within. Find out the age for me,” Sherlock muttered, gesturing toward a photo on the wall.

“A baby,” John said, looking. “Probably about ten, eleven months judging by that size. And the older one, probably ten. Oh yeah look. Seamus McMeyer. He won the spelling bee in primary. Smart kid. Shame about the parents.”

“John, think!” Sherlock snapped, leading the way down the hall. “If you were a child and your parents told you to run, where would you go? Door locked from the inside. Parents dead, no family. No one to call.”

“My bedroom or the backyard,” John replied, following him. “Wait. Sherlock are you saying that-”

“They’re here,” Sherlock interrupted, piercing gaze sweeping the bedroom. “The crib.”

“It doesn’t go there, does it?” John said, seeing the gap against the far wall, the disruption of the carpet from drag marks. “They’d have heard the police come. They’d hide. Or the older one would, and would take the baby. He’d think that they were going to get separated.”

“Or worse,” Sherlock said, reaching out and dragging the crib away from the wall, revealing a small cupboard. “John. Tell Greg not to let anyone up here. Text him,” he said urgently, sitting down beside the door.

John obeyed and then sat. “You think?” he whispered.

Sherlock nodded, and leaned in, tapping twice on the door. “Seamus. You can come out now.” He exchanged a glance with John. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. I’m a consulting detective with Scotland Yard.”

“And I’m doctor John Watson. I’m his partner,” John said. “We’re not going to hurt you, sweetheart.”

The was the sound of small shuffling. “You’re the man with the funny hat,” came a quiet voice. “The Boffin and the Bachelor. You died, didn’t you?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Only once, and I came back.”

“Normal people don’t,” Seamus said. “My mum and da won’t.”

“No, they won’t. But there are people who will take care of you and the baby,” John said gently. “Is she there with you?”

“She’s sleeping. I gave her a little bit of the pink medicine my mom gives her for her teeth so she’d be quiet.”

“Can I see her to make sure she’s okay?” John asked quickly. “Have you two eaten anything?”

“I had a sandwich and Moira had some of her banana mush,” Seamus said. “I didn’t warm up a bottle cause I’m not supposed to use the stove.”

“Okay. But I still want to make sure she’s not sick. There’s a cold going around,” John said. “Why don’t you come out, Seamus? Sherlock will let you see his hat. It’s downstairs.”

The cupboard creaked open, and Seamus peered out. “Here. You have to hold her while I come out.”

John nodded, and took the baby, relaxing as he checked her breathing and she stirred grumpily in his arms. “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” he asked, smiling as Seamus came out.

“Yeah. I guess. She used to look like a raisin,” Seamus said, sitting down. “Um. The police are downstairs too, aren’t they?”

Sherlock nodded. “They are.”

“Oh,” Seamus said quietly. “They’re gonna take Moira away from me. That's what happens on tv. I can take care of her though! If you tell them, they’ll listen. You’re _Sherlock Holmes_. You were in the paper.”

“Yes, but-”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s magical,” John interrupted. “There’s a process sweetheart. They might not take Moira away, but you might have to go to different homes for a while.” He looked over at the tell tale sound of footprints in the hall. “Listen. Why don’t I ask Detective Lestrade? He’s our best friend, right Greg?”

Greg peeked warily in. “Yeah,” he said coming in and standing at the door, Seamus backing up. “I’ll tell them we found the kids, and then I’ll come back all right? Hungry, kiddo?”

Seamus shrugged, not looking at him.

“I’ll see if I can get some food for you then, hmm?” Greg said. “Ice cream cones maybe?”

“I can take care of Moira. Please don’t take my sister away,” Seamus said quietly, looking up. “Please?”

Greg wavered. “I need to make a few calls,” he said quickly, scent tinged with guilt. “See what can be done.”

Seamus bit his lip as Greg walked away. “He can’t let me keep her, can he?” he asked in a quiet voice, drawing his knees up to his chest as tears threatened. “They’re gonna take her away.”

“Sherlock,” John said urgently. “Look at me.”

Sherlock looked up, confused.

“Can we take two?” John asked pointedly. “Are you all right with two?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened in understanding and he gave a slight nod. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

John nodded, standing up. “Take the baby. I'm going to go talk to Greg and then call Mycroft for a favor.”

Moira’s breath hitched as she was transferred from omega to omega, then she settled back down.

“Mr. Sherlock?” Seamus asked quietly. “What did Mr. John mean about two? Two ice creams?”

“No, Seamus. He meant it was all going to be okay. Why don't we go pack a bag for you?”

**

“Okay, Seamus. Are you good for the night?” John asked, tucking Seamus into the bed in the upstairs bedroom, having hastily opened and sorted out the new package of sheets for the bed they’d gotten delivered and put together while they were still at the station.

“I think so,” Seamus yawned. “Where’s Moira?”

“She’s downstairs with Sherlock. He’s feeding her a bottle and then she’s going to go to bed. We put a crib in our room, for when she wakes up.”

“Oh. And she’s not going anywhere, right?”

“Right,” John said, brushing his hair back out of his face. “Sherlock and I promise. Neither of you are going anywhere. You’re going to stay with us, all right?”

“Are you going to be Moira and I’s family?” Seamus asked. “Like forever now?”

“Mhm.”

“I want my mum and dad, though,” Seamus said quietly, sniffing. “I miss them a lot. My heart hurts. That’s okay, right?”

‘It’s more than okay, sweetheart,” John murmured. “Anything else?”

“I….I don’t want to go to sleep,” Seamus admitted, burrowing into the pillow. “I’m scared. The people who hurt mum and dad could come back.”

John shook his head. “No, they won’t. Detective Lestrade sent me a message a little bit ago. He and Sherlock caught the bad men and threw them in prison. Forever.”

“He did?” Seamus asked.

“He did,” John said. “And even if he hadn’t, I was an army doctor. I could protect you.”

“Did you kill people?”

“Only the very bad ones,” John said gently.

“Oh…” Seamus said quietly. “Okay. I’m not tired still.”

John smiled as Seamus rubbed his eyes, stifling another yawn. “Course not. Here. I’ll read you a story until you fall asleep.”

**  
“He’s asleep,” John said softly, seeing Sherlock rocking Moira as he came down the stairs.

“So is she,” Sherlock replied, turning and smiling at him, empty bottle in hand. “I’ll go put her in the crib.”

John nodded, and went to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and setting out two mugs. He smiled as Sherlock came back, setting the bottle aside and wrapping his arms around John’s waist, propping his chin on his shoulder.

“We’ll have to figure out bedrooms,” John said. “We can’t keep them together forever.”

“In time.”

“We’ll need to sort out a school,” John continued, pouring the water. “And a nanny or childcare.”

“Already done by Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson will nanny.”

“Baby formula?”

“Delivered with the crib,” Sherlock said quietly, passing John the bowl of sugar with one hand.

“Nappies?”

“Everything is here, sorted and squirreled away. And Mycroft has child proofed the flat.”

John nodded. “I saw that. Couldn’t get the bloody fridge open.”

Sherlock chuckled. “John?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you...happy?” Sherlock asked. He smiled, and stood straight, taking the mug John handed him and leading John to the couch and sitting down. John sat down, and Sherlock curled into him.

“I can’t believe this happened, I feel like there’s a million things we need to do still, and I just...am overwhelmed,” John said, automatically carding a hand through Sherlock’s hair. “He’s going to have nightmares, and need counseling, and she’s going to grow up and one day we’ll have to tell her what happened to her birth parents, and I woke up today not knowing that we’d end the day adopting two children we found at a crime scene, but we did. And I’m happy.”

“So am I,” Sherlock said, leaning up, kissing John gently. “We did what we wanted.”

“What we wanted?”

“We saw them,” Sherlock said. “And we showed them that they could be seen ”

John smiled. “We did something worthwhile, didn’t we? Despite everything that could go wrong. It was worth it?”

Sherlock nodded, and laid back down, setting his tea on the ground. “More than. We made a family,” he said quietly, closing his eyes with a quiet hum. “And for you, I would do it again. A thousand times over.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 


End file.
